


Lunar Effect

by jenni3penny



Series: McAvoys 1.0 [1]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: "She wondered briefly what it would be like to be his moon-tide, to be the thing that pulled Will McAvoy unavoidably closer, over and over. His teasing smile said that wondering something like that was the worst possible idea she could have and also possibly the best, all at once." Pre-series, even before working together the first time.





	Lunar Effect

The first day she'd met Will McAvoy... the first day she had met him, he smelled of cologne and leather and smoke. And something else... something... transitory, maybe? Something that was momentary and impermanent, ethereal.

“Jesus fuck, honey, it's typhoon season out there.”

 _Rainwater_. Ozone and wet and minerals.

With stale smoke and oiled leather.

Subtly spiced cologne that was light but welcoming.

Cigarette smoke and rainwater. Warm leather.

Not one of those things was something she'd assumed from watching him on television.

“Shit,” he blushed at her, roughing his hand through his hair to shake it out as he stood awkwardly looming and half turned in the office doorway, “I'm so sorry.”

He was soaked through, his hair was matted messy and he'd lifted his shoulders higher than usual and probably in an attempt to keep at least a fraction of fabric from sticking onto his skin. He was so much taller than she'd expected as well. Seeing the man himself rather than just the rectangular screen, it was... He was less attractive in a ' _Rated for a Television Audience_ ' manner and twice as handsome in a ' _In Real Life and Rainstorms_ ' sort of way. He had large shoulders but trim hips and all of him was simply longer than she had expected, taller and lanky. The water darkened his hair from blonde to just a few shades lighter than the pretty caramel of the leather jacket he was wearing and she realized very quickly, very easily, that he couldn't take his eyes off her.

That was a surprise to her but, well, one that had her lungs tightening up in bemused pleasure. And she wasn't exactly sure why.

“It's just fine,” she waved off, shaking her head even as she turned full stop to facing him. And she felt his eyes on her, their brightness caught in a rainwater gloss. “No worries.”

“I didn't mean to... I startled you.” His voice, in real life and right in front of her, was just a slight pitch higher than it was on television. Which she actually found sorta cute, a bit surprising and amusing. It was like a docket of secret McAvoy information, pocketed for later perusal when she'd returned to her hotel room and let his show echo itself throughout the mediocre suite.

“It's all right. Really.” Her glance tipped down the front of him about halfway before she scolded herself, snapped back to meeting his glance. “You're looking for Olivia too?”

He simply shrugged it off, plucking out the deep blue (and darker when wet) fabric of his shirt, unsticking it from his chest with a reflexive groan of annoyance (even while reminding her how attractive the breadth of his shoulders was). “Lunch date.”

“Lunch _meeting_ ,” MacKenzie corrected quietly, unconsciously fidgeting her fingers on the lowest button of her jacket and inadvertently drawing his attention down farther along the front of her. He had been especially smart about it though, rolling his glance down the entirety of her just as he'd turned his head so that she couldn't accuse him of staring.

“With _you_?”

“The meeting, not the date,” she hummed softly and with new confidence, something sparked just by the tilt of his head and the way his smile had sweetly tipped to only one side of his mouth. But it was still in his bright eyes, all of it, and she wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to make it last.

“Right, I meant...” His head had jerked back suddenly, like he'd just gotten the punchline in the middle of the pause. The smile tugged harder at his mouth, pulling it up on one side and half bemused. “She's double booked us.”

Mac simply lifted her hands and shrugged, as though helpless. “Meanwhile she's still in a board meeting.”

“She's double _ditched_ us. Huh.” The closer he moved the more she smelled velvet leather and mulled spice and the brighter his eyes went as well. Mainly because he had begun appraising her far more intently, with more interest and a slow blink and an intentional half smirk of approval. “We could lunch date each other just to spite her.”

“Are you prepared to offer me a better contract than she is?” Mac asked with a snap to her tone, one that matched the way one hip tipped lower than the other even as she feigned any actual business savvy. She'd been shit at negotiating so far in her career – she always got excited about the prospects and gave in when she should have dug in stubborn. Someday she'd worry more about it...

“Considering I don't have that sort of corporate power... likely not.” Then he grinned, full stop, and she had to hold herself from taking a step forward into its friendly warmth. Because it was tender and affectionate and not at all what she'd expected from a man who seemed, primarily on television, to be lazy in his political acumen. A man who seemed to lack the motivation to really do much more than feign wit and charm the ladies in his audience, the self-righteous moderate housewives mostly.

He was legitimately charming, though, that was for sure...

(More than she had expected and especially in person.)

But suddenly she heard a mental echoing of every diatribe Brian had ever mouthed on the low mental proficiency and equally lacking journalistic integrity of one William McAvoy...

“No, likely not...”

He couldn't have had any idea, as he'd motioned to himself, that her boyfriend regarded him as a bleeding fucking moron. “Will.”

She didn't necessarily agree with the 'moron' conclusion but she thought that maybe Will McAvoy was exactly the sort of anchor that CNN didn't need on air, not anymore.

He was smarter than Brian gave credit for, but also perpetually more concerned with ratings and image than he any actual news media.

He was also handsome and seemed far more alluring in real life than she'd thought possible.

She blanked any emotions from her features, toned her voice flat. “You look awfully familiar, Will.

“Well, I'm on... television,” he'd finished lamely, looking chagrined as he realized how drolly (and deftly) she'd teased into trapping him. “You've got an especially dry delivery. British thing?”

Mac simply shrugged at him, doing her best not to match the way a half smile twitched over his thin lips again. “I'm an American, actually.”

“You understand that the accent really throws people off the scent, right?” he accused with a bit of a slant to his tone, one shoulder lifting defensively as a hand waved back and forth between them.

“I work in television too,” she told him, trying to hold in the smirk and failing tragically. There was no way to hide it. The fact he'd so ridiculously stumbled over his own considerable ego had her skirting laughter.

“You're standing on the thirtieth floor of a broadcasting company so...”

“Right, yes...” she hums back.

He was handsome when cocky, when sardonic, when answering her teasing with his own.

Score one for McAvoy. Forty and forty. Tie-break games she had missed. More and more often.

Why the hell was she flirting with him? Because she _was_ flirting with him. Inexplicably so.

“You look familiar,” he commented slowly, voice hushed but calm. It seemed lazy conversation but in the best of ways, as though he was just enjoying their nearness and she couldn't deny that she liked the lulling rhythm of his voice, his words. “I didn't catch your name?”

“I'm an EP. BBC World.”

And he smiled brightly all over again, making her breath pause up and then restart. “I need a new EP, actually.”

“Well, that's why I'm here, Billy McAvoy.”

God, even _she_ didn't know where it'd come from.

But she knew, just from the way his eyes flared wide, that she'd hit home.

She instantly noted the way his entire body straightened and sharpened, just as though he'd been taken to task for some misbehavior. “Right... so this is probably inappropriate at this point.”

“Not inappropriate so much as...”

“ _Indescribable_... Ms?”

Pride had her shoulders lifting before she'd even realized it but not before it made his glance drop down the front of her and then rapidly back up. “McHale.”

“McHale,” he murmured, seeming to thoroughly commit it to memory just by the way he breathed the last syllable of her name over his tongue. “Enjoy your lunch date. Once she finally arrives.”

“Lunch _meeting_.”

“Not in my imagination, Ms McHale.” He went horrified as soon as it was said between them and she saw the entirety of his body go taut, strung tight and unyielding. His face manifested an apology before he could even take another breath. “I wouldn't usually have said that out loud. That was - ”

“It's all right, Will,” Mac laughed out, finding more humor in his expression than anything she may have felt over his sordid intimation. It wasn't even all that sordid in comparison to some of the things that had come out of Brian's mouth and still... his face looked crestfallen.

“No, that was...” he drifted off in disappointment, looking suddenly incredibly uncomfortable in rain slicked leather and chilled. “So, I'm mortified, so... I'm gonna go.”

 _No. Don't you go, not anywhere_... “I'll tell her she's missed out on an excellent lunch.”

“Of course... McHale?” His features tipped sheepish but gentle, friendly rather than salacious.

“MacKenzie,” she softened between them, offering her hand, not missing the second of third chance to do so. The smoothness with which he took her fingers up and closed her hand between both of his chilled and damp palms, the ease of the movement fascinated her for a moment, distracted her. “I mean MacKenzie is my first name, not that - ”

“MacKenzie.” He nodded back into a renewed confidence, squeezing heat against her hand before he released her palm from his hold. “It was a pleasure.”

And she felt her own body lean forward against his leaving, her breath coming up quickly, “Will?”

There was a small little arch of a brow and a tweaked half grin on his lips as he looked at her expectantly, obviously surprised that she'd stopped him from leaving but also seemingly pleased.

Mac just sighed out humor between them, shifting to settle her weight back on her heels, “Men with toupees?”

Mortification had a certain sort of child-like innocence on him, really. It was boyish and adorable in its genuine contrition. Especially when he'd been caught out on something so simple as staring.

“I can't help it,” he confided as he looked off to the side, shame flushing him a rosier and pinker color.

Mac laughed into his embarrassment, “I've caught you staring twice.”

“That means you've been watching the show,” he chuckled in an inordinately pleased response, a hand wiping down his face as he flushed pinker. “I feel like they're mythological creatures, you know? Seeing them in the wild is a privilege.”

“Still, though,” she shrugged, tipping her head with an insatiable grin in his direction.

A smile he met so easily that she felt it ease toward her like a lapping wave.

She wondered briefly what it would be like to be his moon-tide, to be the thing that pulled Will McAvoy unavoidably closer, over and over.

His teasing smile said that wondering something like that was the worst possible idea she could have and also possibly the best, all at once.

“Right,” McAvoy nodded on the edge of that smile, back-stepping toward the office door but not turning, “Meeting _you_ was a privilege, MacKenzie.”


End file.
